I wasn’t at all sure how to respond to that. “Um. Wow. Okay.”
He laughed, a bitter sound. “Glamorous, ain’t it?”
I fingered the ends of his hair, it was very uneven, even before he’d attempted to trim it himself, but it was thick and healthy. “Why don’t you just go to a barber shop?”
He shrugged. “Too far to go right now.”
“Insurance wouldn’t pay for a new truck? Or even towards a replacement?” I asked, as I started cutting.
He didn’t answer for a long time. “It’s…complicated.”
I trimmed the back of his neck until you could see his actual hairline, and then began working up around his ears. “Do you have clippers, by the way?”
“Nope. One of my boys may, though.” He dug in the pocket of his cargo shorts and pulled out a flip phone that looked like it had been old ten years ago; he found the number he was looking for and held it to his ear. “Hey, Rem. Uh, you happen to have clippers? Yes, for, like, hair, you dumbass. What’s it matter who’s clipping it for me? Can you run ’em over? Thanks, Rem. See you in a minute.”
“I get to meet one of your sons, then?” I asked, my stomach doing flips.
He paused before answering, as if he hadn’t considered that fact. “Yeah, I guess so. Remington. The tattoo artist.” He sat silently as I continued cutting, working my way around his forehead, trimming the shaggy hair until you could see his face more clearly. “Your girl figure things out?”
I chuckled. “No, I don’t think so. But my oldest daughter discovered herself in a very similar situation, so I sort of pawned the problem off on her. Or, rather, pawned them off on each other.”
“Yikes. Two girls both having crises, huh?”
I paused, teasing the hair out, examining the ends and the lines. “Yes, it seems so. I’m just praying my other three stay out of crisis mode. I’d really love to not have to put out five fires all at once.”
“What’s your oldest’s issue?”
I hesitated. “Um?”
He waved a hand at my hesitation. “None of my business, I guess. Sorry.”
“Her boyfriend of five years cheated on her with her boss, so now her entire life is up in the air. New job, new apartment…I’m thinking she’ll end up moving, it’s just a matter of where.”
“What does she do?”
“She works at a law firm in Boston.”
“Lawyer, huh?”
“Well, working toward that. She’s working there while studying for the bar.”
“So moving her entire life ain’t exactly a simple thing.”
“No, it’s not. It means transferring to a different law school, but she has a really good job that provides direct experience in her field with people at the top of her field. But now? I really don’t know what she’s going to do.”
“And she wanted you to tell her what to do?”
“As the easy way out, yes. Which is unlike her, as she’s usually fiercely, almost violently independent and strong-willed.”
He grinned up at me as I moved in front of him to scrutinize my handiwork. “Imagine that,” he muttered.
I clicked the scissors at him. “Hey, bub, watch it,” I said with a smirk.
At that moment, his door opened, and I turned just in time to see a breathtakingly enormous, heavily muscled, chisel-jawed, blond young god swagger through the door. His forearms were covered in tattoos, and more crawled up his chest out from under the V of his tight black t-shirt, and more yet wandered down his legs—he had a set of keys on his index finger, which explained how he’d gotten in without needing to be buzzed.
I felt my jaw fall open, and heard Lucas chuckle. “Yeah, they get that a lot. And, yeah, all three are identical.”
I glanced down at him, clearing my throat and blinking hard. “Wow. Okay.”
